Unspoken
by darkladydisdain
Summary: What if Boone had finished his last words? Tell Shannon...what? Slightly AU oneshot.


**Tell Shannon…**

Tell Shannon that I should have stayed in New York after Adam died. I should have refused to work for Sabrina, and given Shannon a chance at the life she deserves.

We should have lived in the city together, met every day for lunch on a bench in Central Park. I should have visited her at the studio, watched her graceful form float like a whisper across the room, the fluid arch of her back as she turned. We should have argued over rent so loudly that the neighbors complained, and I should have rolled my eyes when she stopped to look at things we couldn't afford in the windows of Fifth Avenue. It wouldn't be an easy life.

But we'd be happy. We should have been.

Tell Shannon that we should have laughed more, and bickered less. I should have followed her to France, and implored her to come home. She should have missed me more than she did. More like I did. She should have felt my soul calling out to her from across the ocean, heard my heart's anguished cry for her. She should have heard the hidden plea in my voice over the phone lines, should have known that when I asked how she was I was telling her to come home. I should have said it louder. But she should have heard it.

Tell Shannon that I know when she's really smiling, because the corners of her eyes crinkle. Tell her she never smiles anymore. Not really.

Tell Shannon that he can't see her. He sees a delicate doll to protect and keep, a shattered fragment of the woman I know, the woman he'd be afraid to hold if he knew her. Tell her he doesn't know her. He doesn't know the wild heart, capable of unimaginable strength, hiding behind a shell-like facade of hardness. He sees a finished product. I've seen the agony and the breakdowns and the radical changes and imperceptible shifts, nuances and shades of gray. _I_ know. 

He sees a broken heart that needs to be mended, and not a wild spirit that cannot be tamed. I see it. I've always seen it. Tell her.

She needs to know that I flew to Cannes when I learned she was getting married. I left work and flew across the ocean, not sleeping or eating as the plane bore me to her. I somehow found her hotel, somehow found her on the beach. Because I had to tell her that I loved her. Even if it didn't matter, even if she laughed, she had to know. But I saw her standing there with him, the Mediterranean sun beating against her skin, her golden hair blown in delicate strands across her face. She was smiling. It was a smile I hadn't seen in years.

I knew then that we had crossed the bridge, and we had burned it, as we burn all our bridges. I turned and left, leaving sand in my wake as I told myself it was for the best. She never saw me. But she needs to know I was there.

Tell her that she thinks no one can see the real her, that she's buried it sufficiently. But she needs to know that I know her. My memory is long.

My last hope is that hers is half as long.

Tell Shannon that I'm not going anywhere. I'll find a way to be with her, as I always have. Our own foolish, stubborn hearts have kept us apart in life, but no longer. My soul will refuse to rest until I somehow find her, until we're together again.

I will not abandon her in this world without me. I will not go on without her. I can't, for our souls are linked. She's a part of me, and I cannot pass into the next world with half of me left behind. When I go on, she must be with me. Tell her I'll be waiting, my soul restless until it rests with her.

Tell Shannon that I'm sorry. Sorry that I hurt her. That we never had enough time. That this world never gave us a chance.

Tell Shannon…everything.

For I never could, and there is no more time. There was never enough time. So I will linger between this world and the next, until she takes my hand.

I will wait for her, where she and I will be together. Where the doors we slammed will be opened, the bridges we burned will be restored. Where we belong.

And there will be time enough at last.


End file.
